All Year Round
by Her Name Is Erika
Summary: Twelve months. Twelve moments. One calendar. Two people that share it. LoganQuinn. TwoShot.
1. I

**A/N: Happy Quogan Day! So in honour of the holiday, I'm re-writing a Quogan favourite, All Year Around. I hope you enjoy it. Watching Walk-A-Thon, which is chock full of Quogan is inspiring me. So that helps. Anyway, enjoy. I also changed the setting a little. So, now this story takes place in Senior Year and beyond.**

**And I'm officially bringing Heather back! She's too awesome not to have in a Quogan story. **

**Disclaimer: No. Simply, "NO!" **

**Background Music: "That's How You Know" – Demi Lovato**

* * *

**All Year Round**

[1/2]

**I. January **

Quinn Pensky has a bittersweet birthday – her eighteenth birthday.

The encyclopedia set she has her eyes on is a gift from Zoey, and they sit on her homemade, technological bookshelf. She makes herself a bookshelf that automatically alphabetizes and categorizes so she can finally relieve herself of that task. Her best friend gets her a t-shirt with a catchy phrase, "Talk Smarty To Me" across the front in white block letters.

She doesn't have as many Converse sneakers as Chase, but she will wear the orange and purple polka-dotted ones he gives her as a present tomorrow, definitely.

Michael really knows how to put a party together, and his present comes in the form of an amusing rap. She laughs only because it's relatable and it never lacks that Michael Barrett comedic touch. The laughter is real and genuine and she hugs him, just as tightly.

The party is amazing, but currently, there's a lump building in her throat, while she fingers the beautiful heart shaped locket gives her – in the form of a medium-sized box that seems to magically appears on the yellow couch near the window. Now, she lightly fingers it while she walks out of the lounge.

After all, the flurry of students dancing seems to melt together. This party is for her.

The party is all for Quinn, and she is so grateful, but she's trying to mask the inevitable fall that will fall. Tears make her boyfriend uncomfortable, but it can't be helped.

After all, even though all of her friends are dear to her, the one closet to her heart passes away.

"Hey, there you are," comes Logan's voice coated in laughter. She doesn't have to look from carefully applying chucks of trial dry ice with tongs to know that's it's a jubilant laugh spawned misery or defeat – preferably another's. Quinn hopes having Lola as a friend finally benefits her, because it's her birthday. Maybe Quinn is just too self-serving and selfless. Maybe Quinn is too clouded and even guilty for not actually throwing Michael a birthday until the weekend after. It's pretty ironic since Michael puts together this amazing, vibrant party.

With a quiet resolve, Quinn sniffles so inaudibly that her boyfriend can't hear it. Her logic: if Logan can't hear it, he can't question it and be all concerned and sweet. So, Quinn will actually succumb.

"Yeah, here I am," she replies, suppressing the stinging and pressure building up behind her eyes. She keeps the unfortunately inevitable tears at bay, forcing her tear ducts to obey and hold the reservoir of ever building tears.

"Quinn, what's up?"

The brunette rises, leaving her bubbling green concoction and plants herself on Zoey's single bed. Quinn smiles and fails miserably – fail is never associated with her, but she's just so sad on her birthday.

"Nothing," she sighs, and takes Logan's hand when he sits beside her. Plastering a smile, she gives him a look of assurance. "It's just," she pauses, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. " – the party was lovely and I appreciate it, but I'm exhausted. It's not every day I have a sugar crash of sorts."

Quinn watches Logan scrutinize each her. It's worth a shot – the lump in her throat makes her voice get the smallest tremor in her voice. It sounds loud in her own ears.

"Nah, something's up."

"Logan, just because I choose not to take in my own birthday party entirely, that doesn't mean you have to miss out as well."

"In my own defense, it comes with the whole boyfriend thing," Logan softens a little bit. Curse that sincerity in his tone. Curse it to the land of scientific inaccuracies! "And even if we weren't dating, and we could stand each other, I'm not heartless."

Quinn maintains trying to keep her voice even when she slowly drops his hand, "As your girlfriend, I appreciate your company, but I'm fine."

He's silent.

And Quinn hates that he has this ability to read her so well. Either that, or Logan just being unintentionally intrusive, but still it's an acute ability, semi-superpower.

"Okay," he sighs, resolvedly. "Fine, even though I know something's up, I'm going to leave, but whether or not you tell me about your alpaca kicking the bucket," he winces when Quinn somewhat glares at him with tears building up. "I mean, passes away into uh, alpaca heaven, then you know where to find me."

"How did you know?"

"Easy. Lola told me this morning in History class. It's your birthday. We called a truce for today only," is his short reply. The call from her father plays on repeat in her head. Quinn puts on a happy face not wanting to be the reason for her own eighteenth sinking like the Titanic. It may be petty, and it may not even matter for another four years but at least being eighteen first gives her the eligibility to vote.

Quinn is touched her boyfriend and best friend put aside their differences.

"Thank you."

"Can't stand each other, but you know. I can go a little longer without wanting to hack my ears off, now" he explains, and adds the humorous afterthought of breaking his personal of forty seconds. Logan sighs, looking somewhat awkward and concerned at the same time. "So, you wanna talk about it?"

"Why? Tears make you uncomfortable, so…" Quinn pauses, cheeks becoming flushed with a tinge of red. A few more sniffles escape her and it almost makes her chest hurt, keeping the sobs lodged in her throat for so long. " – I'm giving you the opportunity if you want."

Sighing, Logan rolls his eyes, "You're obviously sad, so quit pushin' me away and let me just be your boyfriend, okay?"

Quinn's voice is breaking, tears finally starting to make their presence known.

This isn't that great of an excuse, but she should know how stubborn he is.

"You hate tears on your shirt."

"Yeah," Logan answers, truthfully with the utmost seriousness in his eyes. "I'll live."

"I'm upset over an alpaca, Logan. Don't you think that's silly?"

"No."

Quinn loses something quite dear to her heart today. Ironically, nine is the number of years Otis of years the alpaca stays before he dies another nine years today – on her eighteenth birthday.

This truly emphasizes the bittersweet factor, but at least Logan is here to somewhat soften the blow when she allows herself to cry and release what she's been holding back all day.

Happy eighteenth birthday, indeed.

* * *

**II. February**

Logan Reese absolutely thinks Valentine's Day is completely and totally stupid.

The shape of hearts make him gag – or it could be the sight of Coco wearing pants with red and pink glittered hearts that are about three sizes too small as she walks around the girls' lounge. Nonetheless, he hates the holiday that exploits _his_ favourite colour. His stomach growls and even though he thinks the whole Valentine's Day thing is a complete, and utter rip off, he's in a semi-good mood.

How could he not be in a good mood? Logan's favourite red vintage shirt and a long sleeved zipped up hoodie, because it's kind of breezy with a slight chill – even for California. In a comfortable pair of jeans, Juanita fluffs his hair just the way he likes it. And the fact that he's currently making out with Quinn in her empty dorm room, so that might even help that mood factor a tad.

"I could use a study break. Lola's got play rehearsals and Zoey's got an emergency yearbook meeting to go to today. They won't be back for a couple more hours," is her clincher, and the way she's borderline begging him is adorable. Just because he can't stand the idea of the warped holiday, that doesn't mean he can't compliment on how hot Quinn is in a light pink floral off-the-shoulder top and the denim shorts she wear to accentuate her legs for miles.

"Are _you_ asking _me_ to make out with you?"

Quinn drops his wrist, raising an eyebrow and small smile touches her lips, "It's Valentine's Day, so in a role reversal way, yes."

"In that case," Logan answers, pondering which take him three seconds maximum. " – yes, but I'm just warning you: I'm not too into the whole Valentine thing."

"That's a shame, then. I'm going to have to force you into submission," rebuts Quinn as she takes his hand and they walk into the empty dorm room only a few hundred feet away.

Oh, her first _blatant_ innuendo.

Logan smirks proudly, "Quinn, I'm totally corrupting you."

With a laugh, she closes with the dorm door, and presses her lips to his. That's what leads him to the point of making out with her – returning the gesture, and indulging in her like the world indulges in their chocolate hearts. He tastes the lip gloss with that distinct coconut flavored twinge, and her scent is indescribable – not because she smells amazing, but because he really can't describe it, literally.

He feels drunk, giddy, high, and stoned all at once and all he's had is a hamburger and a Blix.

But if this is what she'll do to get him to convert to loving Valentine's Day, Logan will hate it every single year.

* * *

**III. March**

Sometimes, Quinn Pensky thinks, Logan being her boyfriend is causing her to be slightly more neurotic than she wants to be.

Of course, Logan's a sweet guy underneath the cool guy exterior he puts up for the world to see, but Quinn is angry, borderline furious and enraged. Quinn is walking towards Sushi Rox, and the comparison between the psyche and mannerisms of the male mind and a mismatched, unsolved Rubix Cube pops into her head. The male mind – specifically Logan's mind – compares perfectly with a Rubix Cube in aspects only brought up on a surface. Both require precise and careful thought. Here's the difference: Quinn can put together those cubes in the average time of two minutes and match all of the colours together no matter hard. On decoding endearing, semi-difficult boyfriend was one of the hardest thing in the year (as of February) since their relationship.

The clock is still ticking and two minutes are up a long time ago.

Even so, Quinn is by no means a jealous person. Really, she isn't, she re-affirms even though though her fingers naturally – almost subconsciously – go to where her zap watch with the upgraded, more potent laser would be.

Zoey confiscates it, and Quinn hands her the other laser discreetly strapped to her ankle.

Quinn isn't in denial, and she definitely isn't prone to being consumed by the green-eyed monster. She suddenly hates St. Patrick's Day, though she's of Polish-Irish descent so she's naturally dressed in green as is every student on PCA. Pushing the glass doors to the popular student hangout, she takes a deep, calm breath. After all, just because Logan blatantly has his history partner changed just to prove a point – that doesn't mean Quinn actually exhibits a jealous streak.

Quinn does care, and anyone who attributes that to jealousy will wake up, not so comfortably tomorrow morning.

Amelia is pretty. Tan skin, and exotic features with honey brown hair that sparkles when the light hits her. Her smile is bright with white teeth that aren't _obviously_ natural. How can they? Following the sound of Amelia's nauseatingly harmonious laughter, Quinn walks over and smiles looking down at the new history project couple.

"Hey, am I interrupting anything?"

"Oh, hey Quinn," Amelia greets, happily, blue eyes sparkling and matching her mood. "What's up?"

"Nothing much really," the brunette replies, eyes discreetly flaming with rage directed towards Logan, who merely smirks in silent smugness. It's not jealousy. All of this green everywhere is just for the holiday. There's nothing ironic about it. "Can I talk to you, _Logan_?"

"Is there something wrong?"

"No, no. I just really need to talk you. Now," she answers, through a forced smile. She turns to a confused Amelia while gripping Logan's arm. Quinn really hopes she's hurting him because he really does deserve it. All because Quinn is chosen to tutor Allen Finklestein in Biology. It's not like Ms. Bellamy puts a gun to her head and designates her as Allen's tutor forcefully.

Stupid, stupid Logan.

Standing at an impasse, Quinn doesn't know whether to be flattered by his jealousy or just throttle him, painfully.

But dangling a quite attractive history partner in front of her is way out of line, even for him.

"Amelia, I'll be right back and you can tell me about that John Hancock dude," he says to Amelia before Quinn is angrily but slightly shoving him to the farthest corner of the sushi restaurant.

"How could you?" Quinn questions, angrily, placing her hands on her hips. "You can't possibly be engaged with history with Amelia, because this is clearly a ploy to prove something to me!"

With a proud smirk on his features, he laughs lightly, "And I did, Quinn."

"Can you enlighten me before I possibly hurt you?"

"Fine," Logan sighs and explains, nonchalantly. "You're just as jealous as I am. Even the whole thing with Amelia being my history partner is making you crazy. End of story. Admit it, Quinn. We're both a couple of jealous nuts. You can't tell me not to be jealous with you and Finkle-loser having some kind of study thing together."

"So, let me get this straight: you basically partnered with Amelia to prove a point?"

Logan places her hands on her shoulders, staring her in the eyes, "Yes. And admit it, you were insanely jealous and frankly, I don't blame you."

Quinn hates that he's right, and he totally knows how to get under her skin. Quinn hates that Logan uses the one thing she relies on and prides herself on to prove a point that is true. So what if he's right? Maybe Quinn does feel the smallest twinge of jealousy and envy. Maybe Amelia's attractiveness and general niceness along with her boyfriend sitting in close proximity eats at her slowly like the corrosive acid she mixes with a classified number of substances…maybe sort of held with the Federal Bureau of Investigations. It's not relevant, but the bottom line is Logan's little "experiment" works.

And he's completely, utter correct even though those Logan totally drives Quinn crazy.

But she does love him, and maybe, jealousy is okay as long as it's the healthy kind.

Sighing, her resolve crumbles and Quinn crosses her arms over her chest, "You really don't know how impossible you are, Logan."

Logan raises his eyebrow with a smirk starting to grow on his face, "And you're quite hot yourself."

"Don't charm your way out of this."

"Is it working?"

"Yes," Quinn replies, with slight irritation before Logan uses a hand to stroke her cheek before totally and completely submitting to the sensation of Logan's warm lips over hers. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kisses him back before pulling away. She laughs, seeing that his lips are slightly sparkly with his lip gloss and runs her thumb over his bottom lip gently. "I guess I do exhibit jealous tendencies."

"Well, on the upside, I could look at you all day in green."

Maybe there _is_ a small correlation between St. Patrick and healthy jealousy.

* * *

**IV. April **

Logan,

Before I actually get to the letter, I just want to tell you I'm so sorry I couldn't be in the States for one of the most important birthdays of your life.

I'm actually pretty pissed off about it, because something decided to spontaneously come up with the gallery and the upcoming art show. So, I have to go to New York and then I'm off to Rome, so once again, I'm so sorry but I know your present will make up for it.

Be prepared to read for a while because this letter will be long. Tough cookies.

I'm your mother, so let me have my moment. The fact that you share the same birthday as Shakespeare is pretty awesome – I swear, your father and I didn't plan that because you were due a week before on the sixteenth – but seriously, let me have my moment.

Firstly, your father and I don't agree on most things. Hell, we actually clash like it's a disease, but the few things we do agree on is the fact we are so proud of you. We're so proud of you and can't be happier that you're a person with your own dreams and ambitions. I'm completely freaking even more proud that you're going to the same college I did. Aside from rubbing it in your dad's face, both of us are seriously happy for you, and I know the labour was worth it.

I'm going to have to let go of you in the slightest, because the reality is you're not the toddler who used his mashed peas as hair mousse and ended up with green hands and a green Mohawk to match. You're not the five-year-old that pulled out all of my flowers and gave them to me, roots and all for "Mommy's Day". I was so ready to punish you and give you a time out in the corner, but I couldn't. You charmed your way out of it, and I trimmed the flowers and put them in a nice vase.

You're a mix of your father and I – not just physically, but personality-wise too.

Rebellious and free-spirited like me, but charming and endearingly manipulative like your dad. Well, with you it's endearing and I like that you're ambitious and you think big.

Eighteen years ago, I gave birth to you. But I never really told you how you came about.

I envision two things right now: either you're cringing or you're rolling your eyes in _that_ way.

Yeah, but I'm gonna tell you because I feel you're old enough and it doesn't make me cry when I mention it anymore. Now, it's one of those life experiences that I can learn from but anyway, here goes.

Logan, you would have an older sister by two years older than you. It was shocking to me since doctors for some reason told me I wouldn't be able to have children – that I would stay childless for the rest of my life. Rather than set myself up for it, I had closed the door on motherhood on together. So, when I got pregnant for the first time, I was ecstatic and couldn't wait. It was one of the times that Malcolm and I got along and were happy. It was a little girl and your dad doted on having a daughter. Nine months later, I had her and we named her Hannah.

I guess I lied. I'm getting a little teary-eyed. But I tell you anyway.

Hannah was the most beautiful baby in the world. Long story short, we were devastated when Hannah unexpectedly died of SIDS, two months later.

Your dad put himself into his work, somehow detaching himself from me. But I guess I was to blame as well. That's what I thought for the longest time – that I killed my own baby because I was physically unfit to have children. I told myself that every day and cried about it, when your dad wasn't home. I didn't want him to see him break down when I always made sure to keep my guard up in front of him. And now, I was going to come undone?

Hell no.

So, I suffered in silence and Malcolm and I stay married even though it was slightly strained.

You were always the kid with surprises. And I stand corrected because while I thought I had the stomach flu or some stomach virus of some kind, I went to my doctor for routine blood work and all the icky stuff.

Lo and behold, I was pregnant again with you.

Nine months later, I gave birth to you and I cried when I found out I had a little boy.

I think your dad cried more than I did, because Hannah just brought everything back to him and he was happy he had a son to carry his name. He won't admit it to this day. Believe it or not, your name was a pretty random choice. But you looked like a Logan, so it stuck, hence your name, Logan. You're Irish-Welsh on her dad's side and I'm half-Italian so we settled on Anthony as your middle one.

That is how you came to be. That's how you exist – I've watched you grow from little boy as a bundle of energy to a man with ambitions and dreams and I know you'll shine at Berkeley. Maybe your father and I are a bunch of crazy nut-jobs in disguise. Or maybe everyone else are the nut-jobs and we're actually pretty sane and in the right frame of mind, but we are so proud of you. We have an awkward, twisted relationship that will never be understood, but we both agree that we want you to live healthy and happy.

So, before I sign off on this long letter – told you it was going to be long – I want to give you a bit of motherly wisdom.

Words can't express how much I love you. Honestly, I see you're changing and you've developed a sense of empathy, not to say you were ever apathetic, but you know what I mean.

I've only spoken with Quinn a handful of times, and the pictures you've sent me don't really do her justice. I want you to hold on that girl and continue to love her as much she obviously loves you. They say parents are a mirror for their children, but seriously, don't follow your father and mine's examples. Let's face it, Logan. Follow what we did and you'll give yourself a one-way ticket to Dysfunction Ave. That's something I don't ever want you to go through, so you treasure Quinn. Don't take her for granted or you'll regret it. Do little gestures. Give her a hug when she needs it. Tell her you love her and mean it.

If I hear the term "mother-in-law" within the next four years – emphasis on FOUR because you're just that impulse and maybe…in love – then, I approve. I'll be there as your mother, but by no means will I interfere…unlike certain grandmother you have.

It's your day. Sorry.

But if I hear me and the term "Grandma" earlier than I should, then I'll kill you. Unfortunately, your temper comes from me, so I know even though I love you greatly, I'm capable.

Words can't express how much I love you.

Happy eighteenth birthday, Logan.

Love,

Mom

P.S. Okay, I can't pull off the whole _mysterious_ thing, so enjoy your new 2009 MacBook. In the big box I had sent to Quinn, it has the MacBook and the new Visor 6000 camera, you've been "subliminally" asking for. Enjoy the editing software in both, and be as creative as you want.

--

There are flurries of emotions that run through him on April 23, 2009 – on his eighteenth birthday.

Logan feels a blend of irritation because he really can't things that jump out at him and catch his off-guard, but he loves to party and when it's a massive surprise party for him, Logan can't help but the tiniest bit grateful.

He absolutely loves the shirt Lola gives him, and he laughs because it's true. It says, "Seriously, I'm REALLY too sexy for my shirt." Zoey gives him a friendly hug and her gift is a free spa pass. Logan takes the spa passes from him and stuffs it in the pocket of his shorts. After all, his skin doesn't stay flawless by himself.

Chase and Michael make him a mix CD, and Lisa actually hosts the entire party.

Smiling that radiant smile of hers, Lisa hugs the person she's respect to respect and love almost like a brother, and Logan hugs her back. She pulls away, as Michael wraps a lazy arm around her shoulders, "Happy Birthday, Logan."

And the best present possibly get is from Quinn – a circuit that she manages to wire and on the television screen in the boys' lounge appears Heather wishes him a happy birthday live from where she is in New York.

"Hey Mom!" Logan says with a genuine grin and he gives his girlfriend a kiss on the cheek.

"Happy birthday, honey!" Heather says, with a vibrant smile revealing pretty white teeth. She blows him an air kiss on screen. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there in person, but I hope you got the present from your dad and I. He sends you birthday wishes. And thanks so much Quinn. I owe you one!"

"Oh, it's no problem at all!" Quinn responds, small remote control in hand and a small wave.

"I have to go but we'll definitely talk. Bye everybody!" Heather says, blowing a kiss, and waving before the screen goes black.

Turning to her boyfriend, the brunette smiles, "I hope you liked your present from me."

"Oh, wow. Brains and beauty? Score one for the Logester," he smirks, and then smiles, pressing a kiss to her lips before pulling away. " – but yeah, I liked it. Thanks."

"Okay! Now, that we've had that aw-worthy moment," Michael says, earning a glare from the birthday boy while Michael claps him on the back. " – I'm ready to party it up! Let's get our party on!"

The Happy Birthday Logan banner is okay.

The presents are pretty cool.

And he'll laugh at the fact that Michael bakes him the best cake in his favourite flavor – and outwardly rip on him for a while, with Chase giving him that reprimanding glance.

But he's too busy twirling his girlfriend on the dance floor to think about it…for now.

* * *

**V. May **

"Looks shouldn't really matter," is the first thing that Logan says in lazy tone. His eyes are closed and he takes on the façade of one is asleep when he really just remarkably lazy. Feet crossed at the ankles are resting on the small table, and Logan interlocks his hands together placing it at the back of his head to get comfortable.

"What?" Quinn says, surprised and amused as a laugh escapes her, as she eyes the boy sits across from her. Where has her boyfriend gone? "On most our dates, you take longer than me to get ready."

He opens an eye and switches his position to look at her, "Not true, Quinn."

"Oh yeah?" she challenges, eyebrows raised. "You took fifteen minutes just for your hair because you ran out of your mousse?"

"It was industrial sized."

"And you still ran out regardless," Quinn offered, teasing smile on her features.

"I care about my hair. Honestly, what kind of world would we live in if I had hair like, for example, Chase?"

When she gets up to be closer to him, she feels his arm pull her in gently by the waist, so her current destination happens to be in his lap. Forcible confinement, she thinks and laughs inwardly. Prom is exactly in four days, and there's still so much to do. She wonders if this is just another ploy to get her to disclose the contents of her prom dress.

Nestled in his lap, and with his arm holding her, she lightly slaps his chest in admonishing, "Be nice."

"The things I do for you," he sighs, pretending that it's actually a burden to be nice and attentive of other's feelings. Well, it's not that he's against empathy – as mentioned and quietly established, Logan is not heartless – but it's just not his thing to be so nice so often in one sitting. With Quinn, it's easier because he sorta digs her.

Placing a hand to her heart, Quinn smiles, and kisses him before she reluctantly ends it, "My hero."

"So, now that I've got my Quinn fix for the next couple of hours," Logan starts, as she subconsciously wraps her arms around his neck.

"Yes?"

"You think I can get a preview of that hot little prom number of yours?"

"Ah, so you thought you could butter me up and get me to tell you what my prom dress looks like, huh?"

"Yeah," Logan answers, with a shrug. "I need to know so I can get you a corsage since it's like tradition and the prom gods will totally kill me if I don't, for once, listen."

"It's your favourite colour, a nice shade of red," the brunette tells her boyfriend with a mysterious smile and hops off his lap, only to retrieve her purple backpack. She almost wants to groan because her skin warms up at the contact and now that it's gone, Quinn almost wants to be mad at Lola for scheduling a Girls Only Pre-Prom Preparation gathering, completely with slumber party.

"Where are you off to?" he asks, standing.

"I've got to put my books away at my dorm and then meet up with Zoey, Lola, Lisa and Rebecca at the little boutique on campus," she explains, watching Logan's face show distaste so she places a hand on her hip. " – unless you'd like to come along – "

"Quinn, you're my girlfriend. You're not supposed to torture me like that. That's sick and wrong."

Behind her glasses, she rolls her eyes with mock annoyance and presses her lips to his cheek, "I'll text you later. Most likely, when we get back. Michael and James need to know what corsages to buy for their girlfriends."

"Spare me the details."

Quinn smiled genuinely and wrapped her arms around her boyfriend, "No promises, baby."

She, however, promises to spend more time with Logan much later.

And then there's prom which goes on into the wee hours of the night, after-party included.

* * *

**VI. June**

At any given time, he will merely scoff and proclaim, "God, the whole yearbook thing is completely stupid. There's always next year."

Usually, that's followed by a heated debate – argument in actuality – about whose autograph the world will want more. It's pretty typical that Logan expects Quinn silently scold him, and attempt to restore some kind of silence to the hang out space – wherever that may be at the time.

And it's the routine until Logan realized there will be no more "next years", so he actually gets into the whole yearbook thing for the last time, since there will be no more chances to argue with Michael, make stupid but legitimate bets with Dustin. Rabbits will adapt to guacamole if not salsa.

So, in the days between prom and the day before today – Graduation Day, and the first of June – he finds himself paging through the pages of his PCA yearbook in a way that looks like he'll actually miss the place and everyone he's come to actually acknowledge as friends but enough so it's not like he's going to go soft.

And with Chase and Logan, he thinks of them as brothers. It's hard not to when there's six years of consistent rooming between the three of them.

There's a really dumb and embarrassing secret handshake between the three of them, only performed when they need to, in Michael's own words and thankfully not his, "Super Secret Dude Swear".

Don't tell anyone but Logan sorts of likes that.

Lisa is probably the best friend he can have, because they click and mesh so well. He loves her – not that way because he's too into Quinn for that, but yeah, Logan loves Lisa in that friend way.

And he'll miss the PCA craziness when he's at Berkeley.

His girlfriend is the valedictorian and with the title of being Quinn's boyfriend comes bragging rights.

Total and complete, unrated bragging rights.

Don't tell anyone but he hates that the line gets shorter and shorter, and that his stomach is doing knots. He hates that the stupid purple gown and the cap that is totally ruining his awesome hair.

"Logan Reese."

Ready, set, graduate.

Logan walks across the stage and he notices little things: his parents actually tolerating each other to get along and share quiet moments of friendliness, even Malcolm is multitasking with a camera.

His friends are totally cheering for him, blending with everyone else's.

And Quinn's wide grin with complete unadulterated happiness radiating from her when he gets off the stage is enough to make him realize that it's okay.

Throwing his arms around his neck, Logan picks her off the ground just a little while she giggles.

"I'm proud of you," Quinn whispers, cradling his face, and inevitably giving him a short and chaste kiss.

Logan won't outwardly admit it, but he's proud of himself too.

* * *

**A/N: So, it looks like I've been MIA, but I've been hard at work with this for Feb 24, which is Quogan Day. I decided to split it into two parts because it was getting too long, even for me. But rest assured, I will have the second part done but the mentioned date. I just hope you appreciate this as much as you did the original. But I like this version better. It's neater and organized and I know where I'm going to actually take it. So please give me your most honest feedback on how I did. I tried, I really did. If you look on my profile, I have a new oneshot out, so I lied. I'm in the process of planning my second Zogan piece. **

**I'm also doing another Chola. I've honestly tried to write Choey, but sadly, I've lost the motivation to write that. I probably won't do it for a couple weeks. Sorry. I don't hate them, but god, my Choey love is disappearing and fast. It's that whole predictability factor for me, I guess. Feel free to agree/disagree. But it's how I feel. I can't change that. Feel free to PM and we'll talk, yes?**

**I have a Misa oneshot planned as well. **

**That's it. I'm off to shower and eat, and then get ready for school tomorrow after a three-month strike has been declared over. So, yeah, review honestly. **

**-Erika**


	2. II

**A/N: Here's the second and last part of All Year Round. Thanks for the seven reviews I got on this. And HAPPY LATE QUOGAN DAY. Enjoy, and get ready to squee. I decided to keep this in the canon world, because I feel like that today. Everything is CANON, alrighty? Towards the end, it'll change a little bit. **

**Disclaimer: Nah, I merely make them do my bidding. That goes to Dan Schneider. **

* * *

**All Year Around**

[2/2]

**VII. July **

Academic excellence is a huge part of Quinn Pensky's life and ultimately her very essence.

Pamphlets from Stanford University, a complete and a quite thick package with a Stanford sweatshirt in her size arrives in the mail on Sunday. She'll be leaving Seattle to venture into the world of undergraduate neuroscience and it's very daunting. It usually out of character for Quinn to be scared and exhibits any apprehensive behavior. However, the saying does say there's a first time for everything. For the first time in six months, Quinn is able to get over the passing of Otis even though he crosses her mind all the time.

For once, Quinn is actually feeling apprehensive about the thought of being a college student. It's not really the workload because Quinn is quite organized and can manage it, but it's really the idea of suddenly being thrust into unfamiliar territory. At least, she knows she'll excel and be deeply involved in the medical field as a neurosurgeon.

Planting the stack of pamphlets on her desk littered with various scientific calculations and future scientific endeavors Quinn has yet to explore, she collapses on her bed, allowing the softness of her duvet to caress her. The bedroom ceiling looks like that of a gentle kaleidoscope – colours merging and blended together like a tie-dye T-shirt. The wall closest to her bedroom door is polka-dotted. A distraction in the form of a gentle knocking on her bedroom appears.

"Come in, Dad!"

Quinn knows her father is the only parent home, because her mother runs errands and one of them is getting chamomile tea from a herbal shop. Tearing her bespectacled gaze from the framed photo of her boyfriend, she becomes aware of the door opening and of Stephen's presence.

"Ah, so you're not up for crunching the numbers of displaced taxes," Stephen tries to joke but to no avail judging by the look Quinn sends him in return.

"Dad, you're not funny."

"You could at least humour me."

"Sorry," replies Quinn, through a small, apologetic smile. Quinn sits up, swinging her legs over the edge of her bed and Stephen plants himself next to his daughter, even though he doesn't have to pry at all. Quinn sees her father as one with the hard business-like exterior, but one with a silly interior and a parental gentleness.

"Humour's never been a forte of mine anyway, but I've always been a dad," the accountant muses, hand comfortingly on his daughter's knee. " – so with that in mind, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You sure? Because I know it's been six months, and Otis was a big chunk of your – "

"No, that's not it at all. I've learned to cope with that," Quinn replies, softly while cutting her dad off semi-gently. A heavy sigh escapes her with valid reason. After all, there's just daunting change staring her in the face. It's not as traumatizing as staring down the barrel of a gun, per say, but it's quite a feat for Quinn to digest when she has to leave in late August for Stanford. "It's just that I'm probably one of the most adaptable people ever, and the idea of being thrust into new surroundings just outright terrifies me."

"Yeah, well, not to quote _The Lion King_, but that's the circle of stage, Quinn. It's pretty scary for your mother and myself because we're heading towards the Empty Nest Stage," Stephen says while his face takes on a pensive thoughtful look. Breaking out into a gentle smile, Quinn settles in the feeling of her father's lips placed in the dark brown tresses she inherited from him. "Quinn, you're going to be great. You'll adapt, but promise me something?"

"Sure," Quinn complies, pulling away from Stephen's grasp. "Anything."

"Promise me you'll come home when there's leeway for you to do so. I still have to wrap my head around my baby leaving for college."

Quinn presses her lips to Stephen's cheek and says with a resolute sigh, "Let's get started on those displaced taxes. After all, it's a father-daughter effort, right?"

"Right," Stephen answers, with a full-on grin, before takes a quick glance at the framed photo on Quinn's night stand. "From just meeting Logan at graduation, he looks like a good guy and he seems to like you a lot."

Quinn feels her cheeks get a tinge of pink, but wastes no time in defending her boyfriend's character.

"He does. And the feeling's mutual. Very much so."

"That's good to hear," Stephen says, and sighs. "But if he hurts you, and I'll deal with him. Painfully. He looks like the type that's squeamish when it comes to math."

"Dad," Quinn giggles, as they walk out of her bedroom slash laboratory. "I thought you weren't trying to be humorous."

"Oh, honey. I'm not," Stephen replies, tone serious, and shrugs. "He'll be treated the same way as a piñata. Now, let's get to those numbers, shall we?"

"Okay."

Quinn glances at the photo one last time, before closing the door behind her.

* * *

**VIII. August**

**August 8, 2009 12:23 PST **

**From: Scigrrl  
To: LoganRulez**

Hey baby. Just got back from visiting my cousin, Sarah, in Tocoma. I'm dead tired. I'm aware it's about noon-ish, but we spent two days there. For once, it didn't rain in Seattle, and I thought of you.

I miss you. A lot.

Love,

Quinn

**August 11, 2009 14:34 PST**

**From: LoganRulez  
To: Scigrrl**

I miss you too.

I told you I was living with my mom for the summer since she lives closer to Berkeley, right? Apparently, it's some trial run and I get to choose. I mean, it won't matter since I'll drive from my dad's house as well, but…parents. They're weird and mine are crazy. Well, I'm sitting here and it's funny because it's raining here, and then I thought of Seattle which made me think of you. And the fact that you'd probably make me dance around in it barefoot or something.

But yeah, I just want summer over so you could be in California again.

Love,

Logan

**August 15, 2009 13:45 PST**

**From: Scigrrl  
To: LoganRulez**

Oh, the weather is totally weird over there. Makes me want to study California weather patterms, but I'm cutting back on reading during summer vacation. It's not significant, but I went to a bookstore and just _glanced_. Lol.

And I probably would make you dance in the rain with me, even though I'd be logical and consider the cold and pneumonia factor, but yeah, I probably would. And you'd totally enjoy it. I think it's sweet that your parents look after you even though they're divorced. Not many people are like that. It feels suffocating. Remember, I don't have any siblings either.

I miss you too. A lot.

Remember when you came down to Seattle like two weeks ago because of your father's movie? My grandmother was like, "When's Logan comin' back, sweetheart?" In short, she seems really fond of you, my mom adores you, and my dad approves.

Okay, I've got a confession to make: he told me that if you made me unhappy an d hurt me, he'd treat like a piñata.

But it's okay. My family approves. And you already know how _I_ feel about you.

I have to run out on a couple errands and buy a new microscope because it broke.

Love,

Quinn

PS. I've also been toying with the idea of contacts.

**August 19, 2009 22:00 PST**

**From: LoganRulez  
To: Scigrrl **

If I didn't love my face, I'd be banging it against the wall. Over and over.

So, the annual Reese Family Reunion was two days ago.

Usually, it's this thing where all of my cousins, aunts and uncles that are practically spilled all over California come together and it's like this whole big party thing. For example, there's my cousin, Whitney who's from Valencia. She's like my sister because we were born in the same year but I'm older. My cousin, Angela who lives in Pasadena and my other cousin, Amy. She lives in Malibu. The youngest between all twenty cousins would be Lucy. She's two.

I'm not gonna go into details because every year I end up having memories I want, and ones I don't want. Again, if I didn't think I wasn't hot and perfectly made, I would have end up kicking a tree. But I've had broken toes before and I don't really want to deal with it.

So, in one hour, this is what happened:

My mom and grandmother don't like each other, and it was about to turn into a smackdown. Now, here's the scary part. My dad actually steps in and is all, "Stop. You can't continue treating her like this, and I won't stand for it anymore. She's the mother of your oldest grandson blah blah blah."

He totally defended her, and Amy was all, "That's right, Uncle Malcolm! You defend your woman! Uh, sorry Gran!"

Amy's a little dense. And by little, I mean, her and Nicole would get along great. The only way I know we're related is that the fact that we have short attention spans. But when she's wasted, she's okay.

So, my dad lets his mom have it. My mom looks shocked, and I'm gabberflasted…uh, flabbergasted.

Whatever. You know what I mean.

But you'd think my Gran would totally be pissed off, and snap because she can totally do that, but she just looked between my parents, smirked and said, "It's about time you defended her. You grew a backbone, Malcolm. Finally."

I'm still kind of grossed out because I had Coke in my mouth, and it totally went down the wrong way.

Why? Because my mom **kissed** my dad. And he kissed her back.

Total prom moment except I had my cousin Brent whacking my back so, you know, I don't die. That would make you sad, if I left due to shock.

And then they argued on whose driving was worse.

I hope you're ready to take my last name and everything that goes with it.

I'm gonna crash, babe. Late.

Logan

PS. Your family's pretty chill. And to your dad's terms: Ouch. But when I have a daughter, I'll be tempted to bust a few kneecaps myself. The dude's kneecaps.

PPS. NO! You're not allowed to have contacts. You're sexy the way you are ;)

**August 25, 2009 10:47 PST**

**From: Scigrrl  
To: LoganRulez**

Aw, I'm happy your parents reconciled, I'm assuming that's the case.

I'm currently preparing to come back to California, because of Stanford.

I'm writing this on my Blackberry Touch, because my laptop's battery is low, and the charger is packed away. I'm anticipating landing and seeing you at the airport. While I love Seattle and everything associated with it, I missed California and you. God, I really missed you.

I'm boarding right now. So, I have to go, unfortunately.

Lol, did you just hint at a subtle proposal? Because if you did, I wouldn't mind it. In four years.

I love you. It's as simple as that :)

-Quinn

PS. Ah, you're sweet. When you want to be. But you're pretty easy on my eyes anyhow, so I'm ruling contacts out. Happy?

**August 25, 2009 11:18 PST**

**From: LoganRulez  
To: Scigrrrl **

A bouquet of yellow tulips are right here for you, babe. I'm writing on my phone too, well new one since it fell in the pool, but I managed to save the SIM card chip thing.

I'm gonna go, but I miss you too, and apparently my mom does too. My dad's sorta in the loop. My parents are just…weird. They're holding hands, doing all of that couple-y stuff, and arguing at the same time…just yeah, they're weird. Don't ask.

Oh, you know you so wanna be my wife. The idea of eloping's kinda hot, but you're all organized and traditional, so I'll wait to propose. In two and a half years. Take it or leave it, which actually means take it because leaving it is NOT cool.

Love,

Logan

PS. Yes. Very happy. You don't need contacts with _your_ eyes. ;) I'll be happier when you get here.

**August 25, 2009 12:56 PST**

**From: Scigrrrl  
To: LoganRulez**

Turn around and kiss me already.

I'm the happy one overjoyed to be back ;) I really did miss you. I agree to your "condition", ha.

-Quinn

**August 25, 2009 12:57 PST**

Do you not know me at all? I'm SO there! Your lips, I mean.

Missed you too, and now I'll stop texting because you're right in front of me, and it looks weird.

-Logan

It's irony playing all around them, as an old version of _Kiss Me_ playing as idle airport music, as others wait for the loved ones to get on and off of various flights. The strangers totally have to be jealous of him right now.

It's definitely not for his good, I-should-be-arrested-for-being-attractive looks, but Logan Reese doesn't have to wait anymore. The object of his affections is right here with him, sharing in a long overdue kiss with him, and God, it feels amazing.

* * *

**IX. September**

Quinn appreciates the quiet times.

She appreciates the small intervals of quiet silence, away from Stanford's large and bustling campus. The moments where she can stay away from the most advanced laboratory she has seen in her life and peel away from the lab coat are moments she treasures. Quinn likes it when she can get away from her roommate, Lindsey. It's not because she's overbearing, and irritating because she really isn't. With blue eyes, and shoulder-length hair, Lindsey is vibrant and provides her with a laugh at the time when Quinn is on the brink of being frustrated or stressed.

"I'm going to flirt with Adam, and pray he's not gay."

"Adam who?"

"Oh, you know. The really fine hottie who runs the coffee stand on the north side of campus. Those brown eyes," Lindsey sighs, dreamily while Quinn fights the amused smile from crossing her features, using the large textbook to cover it. Tucking a strand of red hair behind her cartilage pierced ear, she flashes a hundred watt smile at her roommate.

Quinn sighs, lifting her eyes from the page of neurology textbook, "Don't you have an English paper and that lab assignment?"

"Yeah. My lab thing is three-quarters done, and my English paper needs to be edited because it's all typed already," the freckled red-head explains, nonchalantly. "You know how it is. Shakespeare's my homeboy."

"Ah, I see."

"Yep," Lindsey grins. "So, I'm off to date the coffee guy even though he doesn't know it yet."

But there comes a time when Quinn needs to think.

Her roommate is gone, so it's quiet. Tapping her nail against a glass mug, Quinn closes her textbook, putting away the coloured highlighters. Quinn sips the very green tea, steam rising from the cup as thin white streaks twist and intertwine with each other. There are a lot of things jumbled in her mind, and it's little things that trigger this: the heart-shaped locket that overlaps her other more vibrant and colorful necklaces, the boy she's come to love exactly 32.7 miles away from her.

It's one of the few things Quinn can't really can't fathom or comprehend.

Dr. Jamieson, her neurology professor, almost cries when Quinn demonstrates her intelligence. So, there's a lot of that. But she doesn't see being Logan Reese's girlfriend in her foresight. Ever. She sometimes needs to remind herself that is the same boy that teases her effortlessly, making her want to cry and hurt him anyhow she knows how.

And there are a lot of painful methods.

And then she has to remind herself of the uncharacteristic sweet, and concerned boy on that bench as they sit on that fateful wooden bench, and how sweet Logan Reese can really be. He showers her with his brand of love and attention, and the mere thought makes her stomach fills out many butterflies flouncing around after bursting out of their cocoons.

He's so complex and multi-faceted. So frustrating and endearing.

Quinn can't believe the physical, emotional and connection they develop. While a bit scary, and daunting, a small smile comes on her face because she knows Logan loves _her_.

And she loves him just much, Quinn concludes, drinking the last of her green tea.

"Quinn, Quinn, Quinn!" Lindsey squeals, bursting into the condo and closing the door. She looks out of breath, like she's been doing cartwheels and running in jubilation. "Guess what _just_ happened?"

"Uh, you just came upon the realization that Adam is a Gemini."

"How did you know that?"

Quinn laughs, good-naturedly, sitting the ceramic table on the center table, "I didn't."

"Oh," the redhead pauses, before peeling off her shoes and planting herself beside Quinn. The grin returns to her face, and the brunette sees her eyes almost sprinkling. "Anyway, Adam totally asked me out on a date, because he's actually been using the coffee cart to get to know me. So, it's a win-win!"

Smiling softly, Quinn's head is plagued with small thoughts of Logan.

"Well, I'm glad we're both happy."

Maybe the sentence doesn't register in her head, and maybe it doesn't, but either she's hugging Lindsey, and she gets one on return.

But she really _is_ happy.

* * *

**X. October**

"We're lost, are we?"

"No. I think I know where the restaurant is, Quinn."

"No, you don't. Just admit it."

"I'm not admitting it, because we're not lost."

"All I wanted you to do is turn left. I googled the directions just in case. The directions clearly said you should turn left at that exit."

"Quinn, there is no exit."

"That's due to the fact you passed it. I love you but you know you're _terrible_ with directions."

"Okay, name one time!"

"The beach party in eighth grade where you confused north and south."

"There's something called letting go of the past."

"Okay, fine. Last week when once again we were driving to your mom's, and you totally couldn't tell your left from your right…again."

"Maybe it was the retard in front of me who clearly drives with his face!"

"That doesn't even make sense!"

"Yes, it does, Quinn."

"Okay, explain that to me. Please explain how that's actually logical, Logan!"

"Well, if you drive with your face, you're being an idiot and pissing off actual people who _can_ drive! And even killing people because you can't see, duh. Happy with your explanation?"

"You're so – "

"Amazing? Baby, I know."

"Don't charm your way out of this!"

"It's so working."

"Sadly, it is. But that doesn't mean I'm still mad at you."

…

…

"So…wanna make out?"

"You're just lucky you're attractive, and I love you."

"Score! It's a yes, then."

"No. I'm mad at you."

"But you said you loved me. You can't be mad at me."

"Oh, I love you. There's no disputing that, but I'm quite irritated with you, so make it up to me."

"Will this hurt?"

"Probably, but I'm crazy about you, regardless."

"You'd better or I'll be forced to kick Stanford ass. I dig you too."

…

…

"Seriously, though, wanna make out?"

"Get us back, and we'll see, Logan."

* * *

**XI. November**

Logan Reese isn't nervous or the least bit afraid.

No. Because nerves aren't in his system, and in the half an hour, he'll be someone else's husband, bound to one of the realest, most unique people to unexpected walk into his life. He's going to be tied down for life to the one girl who call him on his bullshit, and love him all at once. He's an adult, twenty-three years old and a budding director. He isn't nervous when he runs his father's production company, leading the board meetings when Malcolm can't.

When he proposes, he doesn't really care for going down on knee, while Quinn values tradition and order. Logan actually considers the whole going-down-on-one-knee thing, until tradition ends up with a cold, then brazen unconventional methods with twelve shades of awesome gives leeway.

"Wanna marry me?" he questions, casually, one day while in their first-bought house. It's a moderately-sized house with ivory walls, literally with memories in the form of framed photos. He takes a little velvet box from his box, and opens it. "I saw this ring, and I thought of you. And I did wait two and a half years, so I get brownie pants for that, don't I?" Logan lets a smirk, shine through. "Besides, I handed over production of that movie to my cousin, Brent, so I could be here with you."

Quinn laughs, wavy hair brown clipped up. It's one of the few days, she's actually sick. Her nose is red from a cold, and her voice is hoarse from nursing a slight cough. A bath robe is her choice of attire, with pajamas underneath. Her eyes are behind her glasses and they literally tell him she's oh so tired, but finds the happy gleam in her eyes.

"Logan," Quinn's voice hoarse but happy when she sees the ring – a simple, discreet silver band with little red garnets on each side of a diamond – and she's in love with it on her finger, but she loves her _fiancée_ more. "I'd be honoured to be your wife. If I wasn't sick, I'd kiss you."

Pulling her frame close to him, he smiled gently, "I really don't want to go to work any way for a couple days."

"You know I'm too tired to sleep with you," Quinn returns, playfully with a smile.

Logan feigns defeat with an exaggerated sigh, "Oh, darn."

A delicate hand is placed on his chest and he lightly kisses her hand, and at twenty-three he still has the power to make her blush and taint her cheeks with a soft pink.

"I'm not going to make you sick, so you can skip out on work. As sweet as that is," Quinn presses her lips to his cheek, before she pulls away with a sniffle. "I can't wait to marry you."

"I'm psyched too."

Logan steals that kiss while she sleeps for two reasons: he really can't stand work at the moment, and Quinn is beautiful when she sleeps. The flu is worth it.

Going into the present, Logan's standing there with Heather giving him a reassuring, and bright smile. Clearly she's enjoying her position as mother of the groom, and wedding coordinator. Malcolm's manning the camera, not hiding the fact that he's a proud dad and silently prays Logan doesn't repeat his mistakes. At least, he's lucky to hit a do-over button, but Malcolm loves his son and often feels guilty although no one ever realizes he feels that way.

Logan's standing there with the knowledge that Quinn is right behind those double church doors.

Having his friends back with him also sort of helps: a beaming Michael who lightly claps him on the back in that reassuring way, and long overdue hug from Lisa before the ceremony starts, despite the endearing teenage squabbles, Chase returning with a slight pregnant Zoey, Lola wearing the only blinged out and glamorous maid of honour dress with Vince who cancels an away game to be best man. Not to mention James with a very pregnant Rebecca, who is due any day now.

Not to mention Lindsey, Quinn's roommate from Stanford.

"Dude, you nervous?" Chase stage-whispers.

"Does it look like I'm nervous?"

"Yes," the journalist replies, with a knowing glance. "I'll shut up, and leave you to your anxiety."

Logan feels like hitting Chase, but really doesn't feel like wrecking the whole idea of a church.

There are elephants pounding around in his perfectly-toned stomach, but he's honestly not nervous. He's probably the only person that rocks a white bow-tie and tuxedo to its potential and actually makes it look good – the Logan Reese type of awesomeness.

And then that moment happens.

The Wedding March plays by organ, and Logan sees her looking freaking radiant he can't even begin to rationalize how beautiful she really is. He locks eyes with her, while Quinn is on Stephen's arm. Stupid butterflies are in his stomach and he swears they're screwing with his gag reflexes. But if he manages to throw up his eggs and bacon, it's totally in that I'm-overly-psyched-to-marry-you kind of way.

Stephen plants a kiss on his daughter's forehead when they reach the altar. Taking his daughter's hand, Stephen places it in Logan's as if to actually accept Logan as a son-in-law. Not to say Stephen already doesn't, but he feels a whole degree of gratitude towards him for making Quinn as happy as she is.

The moment Quinn's hand intertwines with his, everything is okay.

And he's totally ready to be Mr. Quinn Pensky, even though he's wanted her to be Mrs. Logan Reese.

* * *

**XII. December**

Dear Santa,

Okay, I'm making my Mommy write this while I talk because I have a lot to say and not enough words yet to write down.

But my mommy is helping me making my words a lot bigger.

I've been good all year. Really, I have. I ate all of my vegetables and stopped feeding then to the dog next door, because I like Rufus. And I didn't get the timeout corner at all this week, even though Liam (the REALLY dumb cootie-face in my class) kept pullin' my hair while it was play time. So, I knocked his castle down, and poured apple juice on his mat so everybody said he had an accident –

"Addison Reese!" Quinn cries in surprise, jaw dropped. "Why would you do something like that?"

"Because he kept buggin' me, and Daddy told me not to kick him in the 'no-no' area," the first grader explains, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "And apple juice sort of looks like tinkle, right?"

The neurosurgeon looks at her daughter – light brown curls that are obviously inherited from her father, brown eyes that sparkle when she's most happy or about to cause some schoolyard related mischief. But she's smart, and loves school, which Addie inherits from Quinn. Kids her age are very impressionable but at least Addie heeds some kind of warning and listening to her father, but said father needs to have a talk with Quinn tonight.

Sighing heavily, she laughs lightly at the logic, "I guess, but keep your hands and feet to yourself, honey."

"No promises, Mommy," is her cheeky reply with the smile to match. "Can I finish my letter now?"

"Go on."

"Okay, now where was I?" Addie says, and her little face takes on a look of deep thought before she brightens up and remembers. "Oh, now I remember!"

Liam's my secret friend. So, I say sorry to him, and hug him when no one's looking. For Valentine's he gave me a sparkly card, and it was really shiny. I fake hated it, but I still have it in my special box with that bracelet he made me at arts & crafts time. Don't tell anyone, though. Okay, you can tell Rudolph 'cause of his red nose. Oh, my Mommy knows now. That's cool. Last time, I had a red nose, I was sick, and Mommy made me soup.

But after I got to be in the timeout corner, I said I was really sorry, but got grounded.

I couldn't ride my bike or anything, and that made me sad. But that was a looong time ago, so I'm not sad anymore. I've really been a good girl, Santa. I helped my Nana Heather baked her Doodles, and I got to lick the bowl. And then Grampa took me to work with him because Daddy had grown up things to do, and I couldn't see him, so I got to boss people around. I try to make Mr. Chauncey laugh, but he never does.

That's weird.

I like Grampa's assistant, Cindy. She coloured with me. So, she's my grown best friend. And she brought me juice. I like that.

And I got to use my daddy's megaphone thing. Annnd I have my own director's chair. It's pink and has my name on it.

I went fishing with Grampa Steve in Seattle, and me and Grandma Terri made these shirts all swirly.

Mommy says it's called tie dying. It's fun. And I got to put flowers in my hair and be a hippie girl. But I couldn't walk around barefoot outside like a real hippie 'cause I'll get sick if I do.

"Hmm…" Addie looks to her mother, and sighs. "What else?"

"Well, how about you tell Santa about how you learned to spell your entire name, and how you can count up to twenty now?" Quinn suggests, beaming and plants a kiss in her daughter's hair.

"Okay. I'll do that before I get to the presents."

Ms. Buchanan taught me how to spell my name. My full one. See?

A-D-D-I-S-O-N-M-A-R-I-E-R-E-E-S-E.

That's my full name. And I learned how to count to twenty. Mommy's helping me got past thirty, and teaching me addition and subtraction. It's fun.

Okay, on to presents.

This year, I want a puppy. I'll love him, and play with him and take care of him a lot. And I won't feed him any brussel sprouts, even though it's yucky. I won't do that because it's mean.

Make Daddy work less so he can be more happy and stay home with me and Mommy. Because he's the best daddy in the world, and he's teaching me Italian.

Help Mommy make more people better at the hospital. Sick people make me sad. Especially the one that are gonna go to heaven.

Help Nana Heather make more pretty pictures, and Grampa work less too, because he needs a rest sometimes too. Grampa Steve is funny, and Grandma Terri is fun, but please give them a good Christmas too. I miss them. A whole lot. We're going to see them for New Years in Seattle with snow and everything. But still I miss them.

This much. My arms hurt showing you, so I hope you can see it when you get this letter.

Give Liam another Mighty Man doll thing. I broke the other one when he pulled my doll's head off. But it was mean. I'm sorry, Santa. I already said sorry to Liam.

Say hi to the elves, Mrs. Claus, and the reindeers.

Love,

Addie

PS. My mommy and daddy won't tell me where babies really come from. Do _you_ know?

"Okay, we are done, sweetheart."

"Thank you, Mommy," Addie says, and wraps her little arms around her neck in a hug. "Santa will get it, right?"

"Of course," the older woman assures, and affectionately taps the child's little nose, getting a giggle from her. The distinct sound of a car pulling up the driveway means Logan's home.

There's always one sight that makes Quinn feels like the luckiest person in the world: seeing Addie's face brighten up when she sees Logan in the doorway, and running into Logan's waiting arms.

"I missed you, Daddy."

"I missed you too, Munchkin."

Walking to greet her husband in a kiss, Quinn has everything she could possibly ask for.

Year after year, she's grateful to watch her family and her life blossom into something beautiful.

* * *

**A/N: And it's done. Ah, I hoped you enjoyed it, even though it's late for Quogan Day. Regardless, it's over, so tell me what you thought of it. Oh, I'm planning my first Y&R oneshot, because honestly, if you're a watcher like me, I've obsessed over it. It's almost reaching the obsessive level of Zoey 101. That soap is HOT right now! If you don't care, then ignore me. But it's my first non-Zoey 101 thing in a while, I'm excited! I have a long livejournal rant coming up and I changed my layout, so yeah, look out for that. Forgive any errors you may see. I'm running on nothing right now. I like Addie right now. If she were real, I'd pinch her cheeks now. Agree?**

**Okay, America's Best Dance Crew is on! Gotta go!**

**-Erika**

**PS. "La La Land" is my theme song right now. For real. That's the most truest song out there.**


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